Breathe
by KisstheRain14
Summary: She was running, and he was chasing her. He didn't want her to leave, and she didn't want her heart to shatter in front of him. She still had pride, after all. /JxC oneshot/


**Based off that oh-so-popular manip of Jace and Clary in all those fanvids. You'll know what I'm talking about if you've seen it.**

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><p>She was running, air burning in her lungs as she struggled to take in more oxygen at one time. The ticket was damp in her sweaty hand but she grasped it tighter, unwilling to let her chance at freedom escape that easily.<p>

She was running away, you see, from more heartbreak and lies and blood and angels and _Jace._

He was all of that. The heartbreak and lies and blood and angels. That was what Jace was, and that was what he was going to be forever, it seemed. Already she could feel her nerves breaking down, the tears behind her eyes pushing to come out.

The clocks that kept rushing past her screamed 11:26 - four minutes till the train departed. She needed to run faster.

The press of people irritated her more than it should have, but she could hardly help it. They were blocking her way. She shoved through them as decorously as possible, still earning a few scandalized stares. She mentally flicked them off.

Her backpack was digging into her shoulders and her back was starting to feel uncomfortably hot, but she didn't have time to readjust the straps or take off her sweater.

She absently wondered when time had turned into her enemy.

Three minutes.

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><p><em>Dammit.<em>

She'd come this way, he could've _sworn_ it, but she was already out of sight. Swearing under his breath, he ignored the stares of offended adults and swooning girls alike, scanning the huge station for a - _the_ - girl.

It had all happened way too fast, her choked accusations and his feeble defenses, the thrown objects and screamed words, the sneaking away in the middle of the morning while everyone was training in the Institute's gym. Clary had taken nothing but a hastily packed bag of clothes and necessities, forgetting even her sketchpad in her hurry.

That shouldn't have worried him, but it did. She was always glued to her sketchpad. He used to complain that it got more action from her than he did.

Somehow, that joke didn't seem quite as funny anymore.

From his high vantage point he looked around again, hoping against hope to see a petite redhead with a fiesty attitude and bright green eyes. Ducking slightly to search the crowd under a low ceiling, he froze.

There. He could recognize her from any angle, any setting, any time. She was right there.

Sprinting down the stairs wasn't fast enough - he leaped over the railing and onto the ground floor, already running.

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><p>The second hand seemed to be ticking faster than usual and she groaned, checking her ticket frantically for the station number. The number 14 swam hazily before her and she swore, whirling around to check a directory. <em>Fourteen,<em> she thought. _Fourteen should be right... there?_ Turning to face her left, she saw that she was only at station 9.

She felt like crying. Again.

Throwing a glance at the clock, she saw that she had two minutes until the train left. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to run again.

Murmurs and a few angry shouts reached her ears and she turned in spite of herself, seeing a commotion further down near station 6. It looked like someone was shoving their way through a crowd.

It clicked into place then, and she started to run as fast as she could.

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><p>"Clary!" The shout echoes through the airy station and half the people who hear it turn around, but not the girl who's being called. She keeps running, ticket waving in her hand as if taunting the boy.<p>

He's faster than her though, and a burst of speed soon allows him to catch up to her. He grabs her arm and spins her till she's facing him, the move looking almost choreographed. People around them try not to stare as they pass.

"Where the _hell,_" the boy pants, glaring, "do you think you're going?"

And then she's crying and he's kissing her and she's kissing him back - the clock is striking twelve but both of them are lost in what can only be described as a bubble. People part and walk around them, blending with each other until there are two currents of flesh and blood and staring eyes.

They don't care.

The ticket flutters to the ground as Jace smiles.


End file.
